


Relax

by deathlybijoumme



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Begging, Blow Jobs, Edging, Finger Sucking, Genderqueer Character, Hand Jobs, Intersex Character, Light BDSM, M/M, Nipple Licking, Other, Rope Bondage, Teasing, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering, light exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-18 23:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18127802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlybijoumme/pseuds/deathlybijoumme
Summary: Aziraphale agrees to letting Crowley be in charge of a scene. Crowley has a few semi-spiteful ideas in mind.





	Relax

 There was something inherently a little sexy about seeing Aziraphale bound up in something as weak as rope, Crowley reflected. Not enchanted rope or occult rope or any kind of special rope at all- outside of the fact that it was designed for tying people up, was expensive, and looked very beautiful. It was sexy, because, if Aziraphale was tied up like that, it meant he wanted to be [1].

 Crowley was thinking this as he circled his angel, admiring his handiwork. Near naked and already flushed, Aziraphale was a sight. Especially with the wine and gold rope criss-crossing his form. He stopped and cupped Aziraphale's cheek, feeling the soft skin and the impression of dimples and smile lines.

 “Dear?” Aziraphale asked.

 “Mmm?”

 “Are you going to stalk me like I’m prey all night, or are you going to-”

 “Oh, shut it.” Crowley said, miffed. “I’m driving for once, so stop being controlling and relax, would you?”

 “I’d rather like to, dear boy-”

 “But?”

 “But I am…” Aziraphale trailed off, unsure of what exactly he was feeling.

 Crowley sighed, and took a very well informed guess at what Aziraphale was feeling [2]. He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale's brow before speaking. “You're nervous.”

 A shudder went through Aziraphale as Crowley kissed him again, this time on the hinge of his jaw. “I think I am.” Aziraphale admitted. “It's not… it's not really a you problem, it's just a… general problem.”

 “Stop thinking about problems.” A kiss on the underside of his chin. “That's what I do when I'm in your position. Stop thinking about things, exssssept for what feelssss niccce.” Crowley's tongue flicked out and lingered on Aziraphale's soft neck, and Aziraphale _squirmed_. A serpent’s smile broke open.

 “I'm not sure I can.” Aziraphale's face was a deep red now, no more corals or anything.

 “Then I'll just have to make you, won't I?” Crowley grazed his teeth along the side of Aziraphale's neck. “I'll just have to make you forget everything but me, make you desperate for my touch.” Another kiss, to his shoulder this time.

 You know what to say to make me stop, wasn't something that Crowley said aloud, but it was understood anyways.

 Aziraphale swallowed hard as Crowley kissed over his collar to his other shoulder. Crowley sat in his lap, tilting up his jaw to bite at his neck some more, before kissing Aziraphale's small breasts. His hand moved to grope, and he was startled by a soft moan.

 Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, who was currently giving him a very good impersonation of a tomato. Another sly smile.

 “This usually doesn't do much for you.” Crowley said nonchalantly, teasing Aziraphale's nipple with his slender fingers. “Something happen that you want to tell me, angel?”

 “I-” Aziraphale cut himself off with a soft moan as Crowley replaced his fingers with is mouth, firmly cupping the underside of his breast with care. When he tried to speak again, his voice came out measured and full of strain. “The situation is rather different from usual, dear boy.”

 “Mm.” Crowley hummed, making Aziraphale's cock twitch against the side of his lovers thigh. He left his position on Aziraphale's breast with a popping noise. Aziraphale breathed a sigh, which quickly became strangled as Crowley started paying the same attention to the other side of his chest. It took everything in him not to buck his hips and accidentally dislodge Crowley from his lap.

 Crowley slid his fingers under some of the rope over Aziraphale's thigh and used it as leverage to force the angel to scoot his hips further back into the chair. He looked at his erection impassively. “Excited, Alice?” He traced a fingernail over Aziraphale's stomach.

 The jerk of Aziraphale's muscles told him yes.

 Aziraphale tried not to squirm too much as Crowley slid out his lap. He wouldn't beg for his touch, not yet. Crowley's gaze traveled over Aziraphale's body, ignoring his want, before settling on thighs. Oh, the things he could do to those thighs right now...

 Aziraphale's sparse eyelashes fluttered closed as sharp fingernails grazed the insides of his thighs. He let out a shaky breath.

 “Tell me, Aziraphale,” Crowley leaned in close, flicking his tongue against Aziraphale's ear, “how does it feel to be the one writhing and at mercy for once?” His nails dug in deeper. The little whimper that came in response only encouraged more of that sweet stinging pain.

 “It's… intoxicating.” Aziraphale took his time to answer. It wasn't a lie or embellishment either- the world felt like it was spinning just a little too fast around him and he couldn't focus on anything other than the feeling of Crowley on him, his words, his-

 Aziraphale's body tensed, his spine arching with a shout as Crowley suddenly did something very unexpected with his tongue. His hips started to roll forwards, seeking more, but Crowley pulled away quickly.

 “Now, now, Alice.” Crowley's hands moved from Aziraphale's thighs to his hips, pinching at the love handles there. “Have some manners.”

 “I-”

 “Manners, angel.” Crowley said cheekily. It took away the effect of the scolding, but it made heat build in Aziraphale's face and stomach all the same. Crowley kissed the top of Aziraphale's knee. “Oh, the things I could do to you…” Crowley moaned. “I could make you _scream_ for me, angel.”

 Aziraphale let out a small noise and he really couldn't help the fact that his hips bucked that time.

 Crowley kissed the rope binding one of Aziraphale's legs to the chair. He kissed Aziraphale's hand, which was gripping the arms of the chair tightly, and the rope binding his wrist. He left small kisses up Aziraphale's cushioned arm, before kissing him on the mouth again. He settled his hand loosely on Aziraphale's throat, squeezing gently as he pulled away.

 “You like this, don't you?” Crowley's voice was soft and low and he massaged Aziraphale's neck, leaving shallow scratches.

 “Yes.” Aziraphale's voice was wrecked and his eyes were only barely open. Crowley squeezed gently again, before his hand left Aziraphale's throat. Aziraphale was aching now. Crowley looked down surreptitiously and saw that Aziraphale's cock was leaking.

 Nails trailed and left more shallow marks on Aziraphale's arms as Crowley sank to his knees between Aziraphale's thighs. Sucking on the head of his lovers cock felt a little intoxicating for him as well. The want he felt from Aziraphale, and the disappointment because he wanted something more, wanted Crowley in his lap, wanted hands in his hair as hips rolled against hips… oh, it was delicious. Aziraphale would've scolded him if he knew how much that small cruelty excited him more than the soft moans or the taste of him, but as it was the angel was too occupied for that to be on his mind.

 Crowley pulled away when Aziraphale's hips began to buck again, seeking more, needing more. Aziraphale let out a whine.

 “You're an awful angel, you know that?” Crowley bit Aziraphale's thigh. “Too needy, and so lustful.” He bit, again, harder. This drew out a loud moan from Aziraphale. He licked Aziraphale's cock. “I'd have thought you'd appreciate delayed gratification, but it looks like you're too much of a horny bastard.” Crowley stood and settled on a chair across the room from Aziraphale.

 Aziraphale gained a bit of his senses and immediately lost them when Crowley stripped to his underwear and slid a hand in his pants.

 “W-what…”

 “Shut up.” Crowley said coldly. “You clearly can't behave yourself despite the fact that you try to pretend otherwise, so I'll have to trust myself to handle what I need for now. Maybe it'll teach you a lesson if you watch.” He let out a moan and leaned back.

 Aziraphale watched, enraptured by the sight of Crowley fingering himself. Crowley smirked at him and twisted his fingers, making his eyelashes flutter. He sighed dreamily.

 Aziraphale could see only hints of what exactly Crowley was doing under his pants but the ambiguity combined with Crowley's occasional loud gasps and rough moans only spurred his desire on. He could imagine what Crowley was doing and oh… was his imagination wild.

 Crowley finally came with a shout, baring his dark, slender throat as he he rubbed himself through the aftershocks. He lounged, licking himself off of his finger tips and watching Aziraphale with half lidded eyes. Aziraphale had cooled off slightly, but not as much as he would've if he'd genuinely been left alone. He pulled his fingers out of his mouth with a wet pop, letting spit trail after them and paying careful attention to the way Aziraphale jerked helplessly in his chair.

 He sighed. “It seems you haven't learned much at all, angel.” He swaggered over to Aziraphale and tangled slender fingers in his curls, yanking his head upwards so Crowley could look down at him [3]. Aziraphale's face was beautifully flushed, eyes half open, soft lips parted, breaths coming in soft gasps. The picture of desperation.

 “Crowley.” Aziraphale murmured.

 “You've been horribly mannerless, you know that?” Crowley's fingers tightened, and the shiver that went down Aziraphale's spine was impossible to not notice. “I'm not sure I’d get you off even if you begged me.”

 Aziraphale groaned. “Crowley, _please_.”

 “That's hardly begging.”

 “Anthony.” It was Crowley's turn to shiver now. “Anthony, please let me-” Aziraphale paused, embarrassed. “Please let me come.”

 Crowley hummed, making no move to do any such thing.

 Aziraphale turned his head and kissed Crowley's forearm. “Please _make_ me come. Please, I'll… I’ll behave myself, dear, I swear I will, I'll be a perfect gentleman. I'll only do what you ask of me.”

 Crowley traced a nail along Aziraphale's jaw. “I'm not sure I believe you.”

 “Anthony Crowley, would you just have your way with me already?” Aziraphale's voice broke. “I am at your mercy, as you pointed out earlier. You can do whatever you like with me, and I know that regardless of that display you just did, you aren't satisfied just yet.”

 Crowley sighed dramatically and rested his hand on Aziraphale's cock. “Oh, I guess you know best.” He said sarcastically, before squeezing hard and making Aziraphale yelp. He did it again, holding the pressure longer and making Aziraphale cry out longer. “Something that you should consider, angel, is that you being at my mercy doesn't mean I'll make you come. At the very least, not easily.” He stroked Aziraphale slowly.

 “Don't be cruel.” Aziraphale mumbled, trying to keep still.

 “Cruel? Oh angel, you haven't seen cruel yet.” Crowley picked up the pace of his hand. Aziraphale bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, and Crowley kept going, taking him further and further and finally, there it was-

 Crowley pulled away, looking at the precome on his hand. Aziraphale cried out in frustration.

 “That, angel, is cruel.” Crowley stepped back and Aziraphale keened, terrified that Crowley would actually leave him in his current state. Crowley laughed, low and mean. “Let's take this to a new venue, shall we?” He snapped his fingers and Aziraphale was vaguely disoriented for a second, before finding himself still bound, but this time bound to the chair at his desk. His desk downstairs. On his shop floor. Crowley sat on his desk, legs parted and once again fully clothed, smirk and sunglasses fully affixed.

 “Crowley…”

 Crowley went back to stroking Aziraphale slowly. “Go on. Continue begging me.”

 Aziraphale licked his lips, nervous and suddenly a lot more excited than he was a few seconds ago. “An- Crowley. Crowley, please, I need you to let me come, I’ll do any- anything, oh-” Aziraphale stopped and Crowley’s hand pulled away.

 “If you want to come, you’ll have to earn it, angel. And that means begging until I say you can stop.” Crowley smiled. “Lets try that again, shall we?”

 “Please don’t stop touching me.” Crowley’s smile grew at the urgency. “Please, please, if you stopped touching me now Crowley, I might discorporate  on the spot, I’d just have a heart attack-” Aziraphale let out a moan, babbling all the while. Crowley gradually picked up his pace, paying close attention to Aziraphale’s voice, waiting for a falter, a breath taken too long. None came.

 A joke nudged the back of his mind, about a group of nuns he’d interacted with briefly two decades ago. Crowley hushed the joke.

 Aziraphale kept begging as per Crowley’s command, unintelligibly, but it was still clearly begging. Even as he came, he begged for it, Crowley’s name on his lips. A few more noises came out of him as Crowley stroked him through the aftershocks, but those could’ve just as well been pleas for him to stop, judging from the way his body shook. Crowley did not stop until Aziraphale was too busy gasping for air to try to make words.

 “Poor Alice.” Crowley said, slightly mocking. He gradually untied Aziraphale, checking to see if there was any damage he needed to he heal [4]. He yanked a blanket out of thin air and settled it over his shaky companion, rubbing soothing circles into his upper arms. “Are you alright, angel?”

 “‘M fine.” Aziraphale looked up at him. “Is this-?”

 “It’s normal.” Crowley brushed Aziraphale’s damp curls away from his forehead. “The feeling is normal. Do you need me to get you something?”

 Aziraphale shook his head and settled deeper into the chair- which was suddenly an overstuffed armchair, to it’s bewilderment- and drew the blanket around himself tighter. “Stay with me, dear.”

 “Of course.”

 

* * *

 

[1] the one exception to this would be if Aziraphale had tired himself out to much and was kidnapped by someone dramatic who stole from the wealthy or who was wealthy. Which, unfortunately, did happen once a few thousand years ago. Aziraphale does not like discussing this incident.

[2] this happened fairly often between them; one of them (usually Aziraphale) would have a feeling they couldn't name, and the other (usually Crowley) would use their some odd 6000 years of history to guess at what it might be, with a fairly high success rate, even when it had actually been only 1000 years of history or less.

[3] Crowley had definitely chosen to tie Aziraphale to a chair specifically for the joy of feeling taller than him for once.

[4] True to form, there was none, because he had expected to find none.


End file.
